


Bound

by PhePhePhe



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, I love this crack ship so much fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 10:11:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1506695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhePhePhe/pseuds/PhePhePhe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many hands make light work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound

It was late. So late it was almost early.

Konan rolled her aching shoulders, hampered by the clothes that clung and bound and restricted her movements more than any sane woman should tolerate. She couldn't believe this sort of thing had been in fashion just fifty or so years ago.

Slipping into the kitchen she was pleased to find it cool, dark, and blissfully empty. Despite the strange hours many of the members kept, this was such an hour that she felt confident that she wouldn't be disturbed.

She moved to lean down and pull her cramped feet out of her boots, but couldn't even bend close to enough. The corset that clung to her torso like a second set of ribs prevented that and most other movements. A long, tight slip called a girdle hugged her hips, stomach and upper thighs where the corset did not reach. It made the piercings around her stomach press and rub in a way that was not quite painful, but just on the edge of the sensation. She could handle that; pain. Pain was a constant.

The corset, however, was another thing entirely. The woman who had been their informant had helped her into it, along with all of the other form-fitting clothes she had never even seen before. Konan didn't often do missions outside of Ame - her duties kept her firmly base-bound usually - but they desperately needed the information from this one, and there were no other women on base, on team.

Deidara was suggested, much to his chagrin, but he lacked the finesse for that sort of mission, regardless.

Getting off the top layer - a shimmering froth of purple silk - was easy, just a matter of a few buttons. The undergarments were another matter entirely.

After several minutes tugging fruitlessly at random cords Konan drew a kunai from one of her concealed holsters, determined to slice the damned thing off.

That was how Kakuzu found her: bent over the kitchen table, craning her neck to try and see over her shoulder, arm twisted at an awkward angle, face contorted with uncharacteristic irritation...

He would never have seen her so dishevelled - none of them would. She couldn't bring herself to care.

For such a behemoth of a man, he moved lightly. Most would bring up the fact that he was a shinobi, but Konan had met enough ninja who crashed and banged and thundered their way through everything to atop thinking that the two qualities were mutually inclusive.

"Back already?" He made no jibe at her position.

"Don't sound so disappointed." She smiled the tiniest amount.

Kakuzu did a slow shrug that was little more than a ripple of the impressive muscles of his arms and upper chest. He was wearing his usual clothes; sans cloak and mask; so apparently had either not slept, or gotten up.

He moved to get a cup from one of the cupboards and she resumed trying to free herself. They were quiet for another moment before he spoke again.

"You need help?"

That surprised her: even if they were on friendly terms, it wasn't in his nature to offer assistance. Maybe he was feeling especially benevolent today. Or perhaps she was making such a pathetic display that he didn't want to watch anymore. That thought pricked her like so many kunai.

She thought for a moment and then murmured an assent. He knocked back his drink - strong liquor, she could smell it, but made no judgement - and motioned for her to turn around.

Konan planted her hands firmly on the worn wood of the table and tried not to move too much when he started to pull at the laces. It was difficult.

He grunted, steadying her with a large hand, "When I was younger all women wore these damned things. Got pretty good about getting them off in a hurry."

Pragmatic as always, he didn't let any innuendo bleed into the words but Konan was still assailed by visions. Growing up without much fostered a perhaps inconveniently sharp imagination.

Large hands slipping between thin laces to tease skin the same shade as her own, breathless whispers, the tugging back and forth that began to mimic a rhythm that would soon follow...

The silence between them had stretched too taunt; like the skin of a drum.

"Aren't I lucky." Her words fell like stones dropping into a pool.

She didn't like this; being bent over, doing nothing but waiting for his next move, ceding control. A low tingling feeling in her stomach, and the growing tightness of her nipples beneath her clothes mocked those thoughts. Perhaps the fact that she felt she shouldn't like it only added to the fact that she did.

For a moment, she thought he might turn her. Might put his hands on her generous hips and spin her around to get to the front. If he had done that she would have fought - there was no question. Konan could hardly abide the feeling that her control was slipping through her fingers like rainwater cupped in her palms.

He didn't though. What he did do was infinitely worse. He reached around her - his chest not quite touching her back because of the length of his arms, but she could feel the heat of him, the restrained coil of the muscles just inches from her skin - and started unsnapping the clips at the front. The sound of them was deafening in the room, stark in contrast to their twin, near silent breaths.

Despite how close he was, he was barely touching her at all. She couldn't feel brush of his fingers through the corset, but she could watch the steady descent of his dark hands.

Kakuzu slid his hands into the gap the unlacing had caused, prying the corset apart as though peeling an exotic fruit. The callouses on his hands caught on the fine, almost sheer, fabric that still covered her. The fact that she didn't shiver, even the tiniest amount, was only due to years of shinobi training.

"Lift your arms," His voice was low, languorous and rough - but it was always like that.

She did. Stretched high and sinuously like a cat, breathing deeply and enjoying how the feeling was no longer hampered. He slid the corset up and over, tossing it almost contemptuously onto a nearby chair.

"This as well," he muttered, patting the small of her back where the girdle still clung to her. He didn't phrase it like a question, but the pause afterwards made it feel like one.

"If you wouldn't mind."

This one seemed easier; a few tugs and she felt it coming loose. There was a pause, just long enough that she was going to turn and ask him what the matter was, but then his hands were at her thighs. His actions were minutely more forceful, as though he had made a decision.

He fumbled with the clasps that held up her stockings (she would have had no idea what to do with them) but seemed to remember after a moment. The material sagged when released, dragging down her knees and calves and making her quiver for reasons she didn't want to identify.

Again, he slid his hands inside - barely touching her more than was necessary, and then yanked the girdle down her hips. She was surprised by the sudden movement - letting out a tiny huff that might have been amusement.

"That's the easiest way," Kakuzu said, in answer to her unasked question.

She didn't have to, but she grasped his arm as she stepped out of the girdle for balance. A muscle jumped beneath the light touch of her fingers. He was very, very warm for such a cool, collected man.

She turned to look at him.

His gaze was fixed at some point beneath her chin. Probably on the shadow of her nipples pressing against the thin fabric. Kakuzu must have felt her looking at him, but his gaze didn't waver. His strangely bright eyes slid back up to her face slowly. She kept her hand on his arm, pressing a little tighter.

Glancing down at herself, she noted that the slip she had left on was practically nothing. It was like wearing a veil of mist; her breasts, the dark lace of her pants, were practically in full view.

Holding her gaze, he dropped to one knee and reached for the boot on her left foot. She lifted her leg, leaning back on the table for support, fully aware that the view he was getting of her body was obscene. The path of their actions presented itself in her mind and she felt no need to change it.

He pulled one boot off with little fanfare. Before he had barely touched her more than necessary; now his fingers dragged down her calves, the barest hint of nail, as he pulled one stocking off. He treated the other foot similarly. She was aware that she was quivering now, of the dampness at the apex of her thighs, but made no move to hide it.

Kakuzu was calm to the point of almost being infuriating. He paused when her legs were bare, holding her right foot in his hand. The cool air swirled around her bare skin like a cat. She was a normal sized woman, but her foot looked tiny in his hands. Like he could crush her. A vague part of her wanted him to try.

His inverted eyes held hers whole. "Still need help?"

It had been a long time since she had been with a man; her duties came before earth-bound pleasures. Kakuzu had barely touched her and she wanted to tear his clothes off and pin him down. She wondered if he would like that. Allowing a smirk to crawl across her full lips, she crossed her arms under her breasts until they strained against the fabric.

His green, almost reptilian, eyes flickered between her face and the hard press of her nipples, the little piercings that adorned them. His hand tightened on her foot.

"You're being uncharacteristically helpful today," She wanted a bit of her power back, wanted him to squirm as he had made her squirm.

"Cost versus benefits," he muttered, hand slipping lightning quick from her foot, up her leg to press his thumb through her lace covered slit.

Konan closed her eyes, inhaling sharply, and when she opened them again he was standing, holding up his hand to show the faint sheen of her wetness on his thumb. The smugness was near unbearable.

She grasped his hand in one of her own, so tightly it must have caused a vague flash of pain, and drew it close as though inspecting it before sucking his entire thumb into her mouth, tasting salt and the faint musk of her own essence. His adam's apple bobbed and she hummed lightly, releasing him, licking her lips.

Just as he looked as though he was going to grab her and pin her to the wall, Konan turned and gathered up all of the clothes that had caused her so much trouble, holding them to herself. A deep grove formed between his eyes; irritation and anger - probably thinking she was leading him on, playing coy. She wasn't. Wanting him made her throb so deeply she was sure her heart might give out, but he didn't need to know that.

"My room, I think. Taking off the rest of these clothes will probably take a long time," Konan said quietly, exiting the kitchen and hearing the dull sound of his footsteps behind her was enough to know that he agreed.

She wanted him on her own territory, on her own terms.

His hand pressed to the door of her room next to her head as she slid the key into the lock. The other swept her hair from the back of her neck, so that his mouth could press to the skin; uncharacteristically gentle save for the scrape of the stitches. Until he bit down lightly, that is. Swinging open the door, Konan grabbed him by the front of his shirt, flinging him in the direction of her bed.

Kakuzu landed with what she supposed was an amused huff, bouncing on her unmade sheets, taking in the general disarray of the room. She was aware that he had let her throw him, but that thought didn't trouble her. Seeing the slight arch of one dark brow, she noted that he had probably expected her to be tidy, considering how neat her appearance always was. Locking the door behind her, she dumped the clothes in her arms onto the pile on one of her green, brocade chairs before slinking over to where he sat, watching her.

She liked the heavy weight of his gaze.

Kakuzu spread his legs to accommodate her standing between them, but otherwise did nothing but watch as she dragged the slip over and off of her - tossing it to some unseen corner. She liked that he let her lead. Lowering her hand, she let it skim down her flat stomach before dipping into the waistband of her lace underwear - fully intending to remove the last piece of fabric that covered her.

"Not yet," Kakuzu's hand - startling in contrast to her own skin - caught her wrist. The urge to jam her elbow into his neck flared and fell in a heartbeat

"Why am I not surprised?" He breathed, heedless of her scowl, rubbing the other rough thumb over her nipple, catching on the glinting piercings he must have been referring to. Something deep inside of her clenched. Leaning forward, he caught the metal carefully between his teeth, stitches rubbing against her delicate skin, before he sucked as much of her breast as he could into his mouth.

Her free hand darted out, squeezing at his shoulder, and catching on some of the stitches there - brushing against the fabric that still covered his hot skin from her touch.

"Take this off," Konan murmured, voice wavering more than she would have liked.

There was a slight flicker in his gaze - like a bird passing over the sun - before he relented, released her skin with a wet, lewd pop, and tugged off the top. She wondered, vaguely, if he was embarrassed. Looking over his scars, and the dark, angry stitches, Konan supposed she could imagine why; but to her they were just there - a testament to endurance that was nothing to be ashamed of, paths carved on his body that she intended to follow with her tongue.

To her slight amusement, and deep frustration, Kakuzu actually took the time to fold his shirt before tossing it over onto her own haphazard pile.

"Was that really necessary?" She asked, reaching down to brush her fingers across his exposed pectorals.

His mouth twisted in derision - stitches pulling painfully taunt - and she was caught with the sudden urge to press her lips to his. Because she could. Because he was right there in front of her. Maybe he wouldn't want her to kiss him. She lowered her head anyway, catching his jaw with her nimble fingers and scraping her orange nails across his scalp. Her lipstick made the kiss sticky - tacky - almost creating a vacuum between them as it smeared across his skin as well as hers. She could taste the faint burn of alcohol on his mouth before he dominated the kiss entirely.

Her stomach muscles twitched slightly as he wrapped his arms around her, forcing their chests together; he felt scalding warm against the chill of the air. Konan pushed her foot hard off of the floor, tipping Kakuzu over onto his back. She didn't waste a second, crawling up into his lap, holding herself above him. Apparently he didn't like that because he twisted - rolling her underneath him, pressing harder against her.

She broke the kiss - almost having to peel her lips away from his - before burying her face into his neck - placing light little kisses and touching her tongue to his hammering pulse in a bid to distract him. Flicking a leg out from under them, she forced him onto his back - rubbing along the length of him like a cat in heat. A slight smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she went back to nipping at his neck.

This time he tossed her under him much more violently - her body bouncing off the mattress, breasts jiggling at the impact. Bright green eyes followed their movement before his hands reached out to grasp both - squeezing hard just the way she liked - the unyielding metal of his ring pressing against her.

Catching his gaze, she frowned minutely, and kicked his chest hard enough that his back hit off the headboard with a resounding 'thud'. They devolved into outright wrestling from there - her nails digging into his back, squirming on top of him, underneath him, the sharp edges of his teeth against her neck. Something close to the texture of wire wrapped around her wrists, forcing her up and back before she could stop it - although, of course, she could have shed herself into layers of paper, but the point here was that she didn't want to escape.

"That's enough," Kakuzu growled, eyes narrowed to slits, although the hardness that pressed against his still-on trousers assured her that he wasn't really angry.

She arched, tugging experimentally at the threads that bound her. He placed on large hand against her heaving chest,"Be still." The wires retracted, slipping back into one of the seams at his forearm. He brushed her nipples gently before leaning down to place a surprisingly chaste kiss against her swollen lips. Konan kept her hands above her head in the position he had left them as a sort of penance of being so deliberately difficult. His other hand joined the first - stroking across her chest and stomach, down her arms, and along the tops of her thighs. It was the kind of whisper of a touch that left a tingling, a dull ache in its wake.

His hands traversed the length of her with a sort of preoccupied air - as though trying to memories the contours of her flesh - before making their way back up to her face, tangling into her dark, blue hair - disheveled, but still in its usual style.

"How -" His expression looked ferocious, but that was apparently just how he showed concentration. His fingers were surprisingly light as they probed at the paper flower in her hair - obviously trying to dislodge it without tearing or ripping it. Konan appreciated that more than she could articulate. Reaching up a hand, she knocked his away and directed the paper to unfold itself and drift over to the desk. Pulling at the pins in her hair, she undid the bun as well - feeling the weight of her hair unraveling, the slight tingle in her scalp that protested the hair being held up for so long.

"Like that."

Kakuzu's eyes lowered back to her lips, but she moved her hands to tug at the fabric that still swathed him. "Take these off as well." This time he didn't fold them - just dropped them off the edge of the bed before moving to hover over her again - so apparently this had affected his sense of control somewhat. He dipped his mouth to her neck - sucking on the marks she knew would have formed already; she bruised so easily it was shameful. Konan rubbed the stitches that traversed his back, thumbing them and dragging her nails along them when she realised it made him thrust his hips against hers.

He moved further down - lapping at nipples stiff with neglect, and rolling them almost painfully hard between his thumb and forefinger, plucking at the piercings until she let out a soft moan. Kakuzu was quiet, but that was alright because so was she - usually at least. He dipped a tongue into her navel for a moment - making her squirm uneasily - before finally, finally, peeling off the lace underwear she had soaked through ages before.

Settling between her legs, he wrapped his arms around her and dragged her even closer - puffing air deliberately over her wet flesh, making her twitch in his firm grasp. Somehow she hadn't thought he would be the type to do this, but it wasn't like she was going to complain. Konan alternated between clenching her fingers in his hair and digging them into her own thighs - restless, and letting out more dragged out moans than she would ever admit. When he slipped one, then another, finger inside of her something in her snapped and she pulled his head away from her more roughly than she had intended.

"Enough. Just - please -"

Kakuzu lifted her up as though she weighed nothing before she could protest. That irritated her; that he felt the need to pick her up like a doll, like a child. "Excuse me -"

"Excused," He grunted, setting her down in front of her desk - ignoring the sharp look in her amber eyes in favour of palming her breasts again and pressing her into the hard edge of the furniture.

When Konan realised what he wanted, her tongue flickered out to lick her lips involuntarily. Turning around, she bent over - dragging her rear against his aroused flesh deliberately slowly, teasingly, amused by how his hands immediately went to her trim waist and squeezed. She rested most of her weight on her forearms, arching her back and looking over her shoulder at him with a raised brow. "Is this what you were imagining earlier?"

He smoothed a palm over her back, down the curve of her backside before shooting back,"I know you were."

A low throb in her belly made her squirm against her will, arching as far as she could go rather than disagree with him. Kakuzu dipped two fingers into her burning heat as though to test her readiness - although she had been practically dripping for what felt like an eternity. Just when she was about to protest, she felt him line his manhood up with her and push slowly inside.

Too slowly, in fact. Clenching ineffectually on the wood beneath her fingers, Konan tried to push back against him, but he held her steady with sure hands. In that moment, she was quite sure that she hated him, even as one hand slid down to rub where they were joined in firm strokes. He paused when he was fully seated in her, moving the other hand from her waist to squeeze one breast tighter and tighter until it bordered on pain and she let out a soft, hissing exhalation of air.

Kakuzu still didn't move - save for the hands that tweaked her nipples the way she liked, and rubbed her clit with maddening precision. She would have thought him made of stone were it not for the twitch of his hard length inside of her, the heaving of the chest pressed to her back, the hammering of his pulse so strong that she could almost taste it. She wondered if he wanted her to beg.

"Move, please - Kakuzu." The first time she had spoken his name since they had begun - it fell from her lips with ease.

His hands instantly moved to her waist - finally sliding in and out with a force that made her want to crawl out of her own skin. She felt full to bursting and it was almost embarrassing that it took perhaps a minute for her to climax with a gasp that was close to a sob. Konan scratched at the surface of the furniture beneath her as Kakuzu sped up, thrusting her with bone-jarring intensity - almost silent save for the harsh rasp of his breathing. His fingers clenched at her waist with bruising force when he finished - thrusting inside her a final time - before pressing his chest to her back; hotly exhaling against her sweat-slick skin.

He actually helped her up from the desk, surprisingly enough - peeling off a sheet of paper that had stuck to her skin and casting an eye over the characters made smudged and illegible by her sweat.

"You've ruined the invoices for this month," He scowled.

Konan hummed slightly in agreement, before adding,"You helped, Kakuzu-san."


End file.
